


Derailed

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mysterious situation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22770805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Nothing makes any sense. Not the life that Egon finds himself in, nor the people in it.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Update:** I was originally going to finish this fic in 5 chapters and then write a continuation to it in a Part 2, but I’ve decided to keep the whole story in one place. So this fic will now be around 8 chapters or more, depending on how I end up editing it.

“—the soy sauce, young man?”

“I beg your pardon?” Egon blinked at the withered old lady who was waving a crumpled copy of _Vogue_ magazine in his face.

“Which aisle is the soy sauce in?”

How on earth was Egon supposed to know the answer to that? It wasn’t like he...

A superficial glance at his attire confirmed that Egon actually did work for _Freshness Supermarket_. If the dreadfully dull yellow and green uniform didn’t give him away, the name tag identifying him as an _employee-in-training_ surely would.

Forcing himself to visually locate the soy sauce in his brain, Egon simultaneously performed a full scan of his mental faculties. Nothing seemed to be amiss with the inner workings of his brain, aside from a twinge of a headache. He wasn’t seeing double, there was no ringing in his ears, and he wasn’t suffering from amnesia - as far as he could tell. Then why was it that he had no recollection of walking into this supermarket and accepting a job that he was completely unsuitable for?

“The soy sauce is undoubtedly in aisle four, where the rest of the sauces and condiments are displayed.” This Egon knew because he may or may not have purchased a bottle of soy sauce in order to make stir fry noodles at some point in his life. But which was it? Had he made the noodles or not?

“Hey, Spengler! Get off your ass and start scanning!”

Egon nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud shrill voice that originated from the cash register next to his. A similarly dressed brunette in her teens was ringing up customer purchases and viciously jamming as many products as she could into the one bag. She gave Egon a dirty look when he just gazed at her for a moment, not knowing what it was that he was supposed to be doing.

“Hurry it up, blondie!” A middle aged man in a business suit commanded in an annoyed tone. “My lunch break ends in ten minutes.”

Feeling like he was stuck in a pressurized fish tank with opaque windows, Egon reached for the first item on the conveyor belt. It was a Payday bar. Egon wasn’t overly fond of those because they took thirty percent longer to chew than a Mars bar. Turning the chocolate bar this way and that, Egon finally managed to locate the bar code. The print was awfully tiny and illegible, perhaps because Egon’s glasses had slid down his nose in the confusion.

“I’m going to be here until Labor Day,” the man muttered loudly as he watched Egon fumble with the chocolate bar until the bar code lined up with the scanner.

The next few items were easier to scan because they were bigger and the bar codes not too difficult to locate. However, Egon found that the repetitive process of scanning and bagging drained his brain cells considerably. It was such a boring procedure that he shut his sense of awareness off and just kept automatically scanning. How long was he expected to do this for? The answer to that would probably depend on what time he had started his shift and how long a standard shift happened to be. Unfortunately, he could not remember what time he had started. Had he been daydreaming this entire time?

“Do you want me to pay for this or what?!”

Egon glanced up at the man who was standing at the end of the conveyor belt with a twisted look of amusement on his lined face. That was when Egon realized that he had begun to scan in the next customer’s purchases without requesting that the man in the suit pay for his.

“That would be the morally correct thing to do,” Egon replied with the utmost sincerity. 

“Damn cashiers keep getting weirder and weirder,” the man muttered as he flung a wad of bills at Egon. “Why can’t they hire someone normal for a change?”

After the man had left, Egon was tortured with another twenty-four customers, before there was an even more intolerable lull in activity. Exactly seventeen minutes after he had been left with nothing to do, and not wanting to strike up a conversation with the mean looking girl in the neighboring cash register, the customers began to line up to punish Egon some more. He spent nearly five hours behind that cash register, only once daring to request that he be allowed a bathroom break, before his shift came to an end.

“Come along, Egon. I haven’t got all day.”

Egon was neatly folding up the drab uniform he had changed out of when a tired voice sounded from behind him. Turning around, he found himself face to face with a tall leggy woman in a striped pantsuit. Her face was fresh and her skin generously moisturized, but the grey flecks at her roots and the overuse of concealer under her eyes put her in her mid to late forties.

“I apologize. I wasn’t aware that I was being waited for,” Egon said politely.

“Are all sons this inconsiderate?” The dark haired woman dramatically sighed.

“I wasn’t being inconsiderate,” Egon responded quickly, feeling as if a gear had clicked into place in his head. “I have merely had a less than successful first day at my new job.” The idea that this new job might be a permanent thing made Egon cringe. “I am very glad to see you, Mother.” Egon leaned forward to kiss the woman on the cheek, only to have her pull away from him in disgust.

“How many times must I tell you, Egon? Don’t embarrass me or yourself in public with that sort of unmanly, effeminate behavior. It’s no wonder your father left us.” Mrs. Spengler turned on her heel and began to make her way towards the exit.

For a second, Egon stood by his abandoned cash register feeling cold and empty inside. What was so wrong with giving his mother a peck on the cheek? Didn’t he always do so? Even if he didn’t, had it been completely necessary for his mother to berate him in front of the other staff members, including calling him _effeminate?_ And how cruel that was to imply that he was the reason his father had chosen to forsake them both. Swallowing hard and pushing some pretty uncomfortable emotions back down inside of him, where they belonged, Egon rushed to follow his mother to the car before he did anything else to offend her.

Mrs. Spengler strode through the parking lot until she reached a bright red Toyota Camry. But instead of getting inside, she waited for Egon to catch up.

“Here’s a ten dollar bill. You can use whatever’s left after your transportation to buy yourself dinner.” She withdrew the banknote from her pristine Louis Vuitton wallet and thrust it in Egon’s direction. “I’ve booked you another appointment with Doctor Lenenbaum at six o’clock sharp. You’re to go there directly and discuss your recent failings with him. I simply will not tolerate you losing another job due to your wandering mind.”

Egon stood there in a sort of trance. He stared blankly at the less than generous amount of money that his mother was supplying him with, not knowing whether he should accept it or flee from this rather shameful exchange between mother and son in the middle of a crowded parking lot. People were gawking at them and some were talking. No doubt speculating on what kind of drama was transpiring between the attractive dark haired woman and her poor excuse for a son. They might not even assume that Egon was her son due to his light blond hair and more slender bone structure.

“Doctor Lenenbaum...?” Something akin to a mental barrier temporarily prevented Egon from accessing the memory of a pretentious know-it-all sitting behind a foreboding cherry wood desk and tapping away at a notepad with his overpriced fountain pen.

“I should have sent you to him yesterday when you refused to take your medicine.”

What medicine? Gradually, Egon began to feel like he was being dragged down into a pit of quicksand. And the more he struggled against it, the more bewildered and exhausted he felt. Nothing made any sense to him. Not this conversation and not the part-time job that he was bound to be fired from in the very near future.

“Here’s his card. If you get lost - again - ask someone who works for the subway for directions.”

Egon mutely accepted both the card and the ten dollar bill. If this was the state his mind got into every time he was forced to converse with another human being - his own mother included - then he was most definitely in need of some form of therapy. Perhaps the medicine that the doctor prescribed him would right the chemical imbalance in his brain. What else could be causing him to experience such unsettling holes in his memory and a complete lack of order with his emotions? But why couldn’t Mrs. Spengler drive Egon to the appointment? Couldn’t she see that Egon was in no state to be navigating the busy transit system on his own? And wasn’t it now rush hour? Did she not care what might happen to Egon if he ended up stranded in one of the seedier areas of town?

Ignoring Egon’s pleading look, Mrs. Spengler glanced at her watch and cursed. “I’m going to be late for my dinner date. I’ll see you at home around ten.” And then she was getting into her car and driving off, not even bothering to check that Egon had understood the instructions that he had been given.

Once Mrs. Spengler was out of sight, it occurred to Egon that he didn’t know where he was or how to get to the nearest train station. Pocketing the money and card, he nervously made his way across the parking lot. Train stations were everywhere, weren’t they? If he didn’t find one on the first corner, then he would continue walking until he ran into one. He would only ask for help as a last resort because nobody that he had come across so far looked the least bit sympathetic to his plight.

Predictably, Egon was unable to locate a train station on the first, second or third corner. He kept walking down the main road, not really knowing in which direction he was headed. It was somewhere between the forth and fifth corner that Egon was nearly struck down by a motor vehicle. So lost in his own thoughts was he that he stepped out into traffic when the pedestrian signal was flashing red. There was the sound of screeching tires and a blaring horn, followed by excited gasps of intrigue from the onlookers across the street.

Egon remained frozen where he was, awaiting the moment of impact in absolute terror.

“Man, you need to get your glasses checked!” An angry voice shouted at Egon. A car door slammed and heavy footsteps began to pound over to him. “Would’ja get the hell off of the road before I’m stuck giving my statement to the coroner!” A strong hand grabbed Egon by the forearm and hauled him back to the safety of the sidewalk.

Egon tearfully gazed at the black taxi driver who had just missed causing yet another traffic fatality in the good city of New York. He didn’t know whether he should be apologizing for getting in the way or thanking the man for saving his life.

“Aww, geez. Now don’t go doing that,” the man groaned at the sight of Egon’s tears. Wrapping a comradely arm around Egon’s shoulders, the taxi driver steered him in the direction of the backseat of his cab. “Hop in and I’ll take you wherever you’re in such a rush to get to that you’re jaywalking in the middle of rush hour.”

“I only have ten dollars,” Egon said feebly. There was something about this man that he trusted - something very honest and down-to-earth.

“Consider it an act of goodwill.” The taxi driver shut the rear door and got back behind the wheel in the front driver’s seat. “D’you believe in karma?” Without waiting for an answer, the man began to preach to Egon in a heavily wise tone. “The way I see it, an act of good easily cancels out an act of evil. Now, not saying that what I did was evil or nothing, but last week I accidentally ran over a cat. I was driving along, minding my own business - and adhering to the speed limit in case you’re wondering - when this giant brown blob flies out in front of me. There was no way I could brake in time. I didn’t kill it or nothing, but the vet says that it’s gonna have a limp for life.”

Failing to see what hitting a stray cat had to do with him, Egon peered over at the man’s driver’s license. Winston Zeddemore 420982. Winston’s license had just been renewed back in February so he was legally permitted to operate a taxi. That was a relief! And it was equally lucky for Egon that Winston hadn’t mowed him down like he had done to that poor hapless cat.

“So I‘ve been trying to think of how I can repay that bad deed with a good one. You look like you’re in need of some luck. Maybe if I help you out, God’ll forgive me for what I did to His cat.”

That was some sound reasoning there, but Egon wondered if giving a stranger a free ride would really negate inflicting a permanent injury on one of God’s creatures. Not wanting to risk losing his temporary mode of transportation, Egon made no comment.

“So, where’re you headed?”

“To see a Doctor Lenenbaum.” Egon fished the man’s business card out of his pocket and passed it to Winston.“Do you know where this is?”

“Yup! I pass by that area of town nearly every day. _Registered psychiatrist_?” Winston passed the card back to Egon with a frown. “Not that I’m one to judge but you’re a bit young to be seeing one of those, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” Egon asked as he buckled up and settled back to visually inspect the scenery as it flew by.

“Well, you’re obviously not married and you seem pretty together to me.”

What on earth did being married have to do with seeing a psychiatrist? Subconsciously, Egon found himself rubbing his left ring finger with his opposite index finger and thumb. “That’s odd...” That finger was slightly paler than the rest. It was possible that he had worn a ring on that finger at some point in time in the past. But a ring for what? He obviously hadn’t received a higher education so he wasn’t expecting to find a college class ring lying around anywhere.

“Getting married can screw some good people up,” Winston continued to ramble on as he drove down N Moore Street. “First there’s the pressure of living up to someone else’s expectations, then there’re all the secrets that trickle out of the floorboards like an army of invading ants.”

Egon shivered and brushed at his arms. He belatedly noticed that the pink shirt he was wearing was awfully thin for early spring. Come to think of it, he was actually quite cold. Why was he so slow to react to his environment and the people in it? Had he always been this way? How long had he been seeing Dr. Lenenbaum? Was the doctor qualified to treat someone with Egon’s peculiar symptoms?

“You cold back there? I can turn on the heat.”

“That would be most appreciated.” Then, not being able to subdue his curiosity at Winston’s very low opinion of marriage, Egon asked the obvious question. “Are you married?”

“Yeah. Just tied the knot last year.”

“Do you mind if I inquire about these ‘secrets’ that you’ve uncovered?”

“I mind, homeboy, but I’ll answer anyway. So I marry the woman, take her on the honeymoon of a lifetime, and in the middle of our first night together can you guess what happens?”

Not in a million years! Egon’s imagination was not that liberated - or perverted. He had no desire to fantasize about the sexual antics of his fellow man.

“We’re as intimately joined as two people can be when she suddenly moans some other dude’s name! Can you believe it?!”

Blushing profusely, Egon discovered that he didn’t want to picture it, much less believe it.

Suddenly, a flash of red caught Egon’s eye, drawing his attention to an imposing old three-storey brick building with a giant set of double doors on the ground floor. “What is _that_?!” Egon asked in an uncontrollable panic.

“What? That?” Winston twisted his head around to see what had spooked his passenger. “You’re not from around here, are you? That’s the old Firehouse, Hook and Ladder Company Eight. It failed its last inspection and is scheduled to be demolished at the end of this month.”

That meant absolutely nothing to Egon, so why had he reacted so strongly to the sight of an old firehouse?

“Okay, we’re here,” Winston announced a few minutes later.

“ _This_ is the building? Are you certain?” The building that Winston had stopped in front of was on a side street in the middle of nowhere. It looked terribly shabby and poorly maintained for a building where a medical practitioner supposedly kept his office.

“This’s the address. Two twenty-five Green Ash Crescent. The office you’re after is on the top floor.”

Egon very reluctantly got out of the taxi. “Thank you very much for your kindness, Mister Zeddemore,” he said graciously. They hadn’t passed a visible bus stop or train station in the past ten or so minutes. If Egon had been forced to take public transportation, and then walk, he would have been late for his appointment. And that was only if he hadn’t gotten lost first.

“It’s just Winston.” Winston offered his business card before Egon wandered too far off. “Call if you need someone to pick you up later.” Then the yellow cab was pulling away from the curb and driving off.


	2. Chapter 2

The stairs inside the building were blackened with dirt and covered in dust. This Lenenbaum must think fairly highly of himself if he expected his patients to turn a blind eye to such a filthy environment. There had probably been a fire at some point because the walls were extremely brown in some places and a few of the banisters were charred black. Despite the structurally unsound appearance of the stairs, Egon was forced to take them to the fourth floor when he was unable to locate an elevator.

All of the individual units from the ground floor and up were vacant. Some were subtle about it, lacking a name plaque next to the door, whereas others were more obvious because they had been sealed off with police tape. But on the third floor, there was one door that was partially ajar. A light was emanating from within and the sound of a lively young man ordering a pizza over the phone echoed down the stairs.

_Doctor Peter Venkman. Psychologist._

Egon read the professional looking name plaque, hesitating halfway up the stairs to the fourth floor.

 _“... and don’t skimp on the olives,_ ” the voice added before hanging up the phone.

Why should Egon feel obligated to be seen by Dr. Lenenbaum? Wouldn’t any licensed professional do? If Lenenbaum was as great as he made himself out to be, he wouldn’t mind if Egon sought a second opinion on his condition - whatever that may be.

Retracing his steps back down to the third floor, Egon held his breath and lightly tapped on Dr. Venkman’s door.

There was a flurry of movement inside and then the door was being yanked open to reveal a handsome young man with dark brown hair wearing a tweed suit. He looked to be similar to Egon in age and two or three centimeters shorter in height, if not a lot more masculine with broad shoulders and a well defined chest. The suit Dr. Venkman was wearing was rather old fashioned looking and tight in the arms and shoulders. Perhaps Dr. Venkman had acquired it from a neighborhood garage sale or stolen it out of his father’s closet. Either way, it was not what one would expect a respectable psychologist to be wearing.

“Good evening,” Dr. Venkman drawled as he visually inspected Egon from head to toe. Obviously liking what he saw, he opened the door wider and gestured for Egon to enter. “You’re not on my schedule, are you? I was pretty sure that I left six o’clock open for dinner.”

Taking a good long look around the sparsely decorated office, Egon began to wonder if anyone had been on Dr. Venkman’s schedule in the past few months. “No. I’m afraid that I don’t have an appointment...”

“No problem,” Dr. Venkman said enthusiastically. “I’ll just put dinner off for another hour or two. Come in and have a seat.” He darted over to the only armchair in the room, brushed it off with the back of his sleeve, and waved Egon to sit in it. A split second later he was rushing back to the door with a _Do not disturb_ sign in his hand. He hung it over the doorknob and shut the door, which immediately created an air of safety and privacy that made Egon deflate in relief.

“Doctor Venkman...”

“Please, call me Peter.” Peter smiled at Egon as he took a seat behind his desk. Then he uncapped his dollar store pen, scribbled on a notepad until the ink began to flow, and started to write on a scrap piece of paper. “So, what can I do for you, Mister...?”

“Egon Spengler.”

“Egon.” Peter’s twinkling emerald eyes softened as he repeated Egon’s name. “That’s a nice name. So, what can I do for you, _Egon_?”

The way Peter said his name made Egon feel incredibly warm and special, which was beyond weird due to the fact that Egon had never met him before. How was it possible that this man had managed to get under his skin before they had even begun a conversation?

“Would you mind if I confirmed your hourly rate before we begin?” Egon nervously asked. The last thing he wanted to do was burden his mother with an inflated consultation charge. There was no way that Egon could afford to pay such a bill on his own, not with the pitiful amount of money that he had earned on his first day at the supermarket.

“Sweetheart, the first time’s free,” Peter blurted out as he gazed at Egon fondly.

At precisely the same moment, Egon’s face turned red and Peter slapped his hand over his mouth in horror.

“Shit! I don’t know why I just said that. I’m _so_ sorry,” Peter ran a hand through his stylish hairdo, unwittingly messing it up in the process. “It must be these late hours that I’m working. I’m not usually this unprofessional - really.”

“Apology accepted,” Egon quickly cut in before Peter could dig himself in even deeper. The truth was, he didn’t really mind the way Peter was appraising him. If anything, Egon found Peter’s sexual misconduct flattering. Which just proved how skewed Egon’s judgment currently was. Clearing his throat, Egon did his best to convey to Peter what the problem was and why he had chosen to disobey his mother.

“So... you don’t think you’re capable of working in a supermarket?” Peter asked once Egon had finished venting his frustrations. “I get it. That cash register is pretty tricky to get used to—.”

“ _No_ ,” Egon interrupted. “That is not it. I do not believe I am capable of working in a supermarket because of the endless flow of information that is circulating through my brain. I know things... I _understand_ things that I shouldn’t be able to. There are more important tasks that I ought to be occupying my time with. Things of a higher consequence than someone’s grocery list.”

“Uh huh,” Peter grunted absently as he scrawled something on that messy piece of paper of his.

“I am _not_ suffering from _grandiose delusions_ ,” Egon said haughtily.

“You can read my writing?” Peter looked at Egon in surprise.

“Upside down and backwards,” Egon smartly added.

Peter crossed out his speculative diagnosis and sat back in his chair. “So why does your mother think you need to see a shrink?”

“I’m not entirely certain that she _is_ my mother,” Egon said with unguarded emotion.

“Why do you say that?”

“You mean aside from the fact that we look nothing alike?”

“Sweet-.” This time Peter cut himself off but didn’t look particularly sorry about the slip. “Nowadays, adoptions don’t come with the same stigma that they used to,” he said calmly. “You’re finding out a bit late, but—.”

“I mean that she isn’t my mother in any sense of the word,” Egon protested, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears at the horrible thing that he had just said. “She’s uncaring and cruel, she callously calls me names, and she blames me for my father’s absence.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Peter shoved his chair back and came around to sit on the edge of Egon’s armchair. He then pulled Egon into his arms and held him close. “So your father is out of the picture. Do you know why he left or where he went?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue.” Egon instinctively leaned into Peter’s embrace, comforted by the man’s warm and caring nature. But the tears wouldn’t stop coming. “I’ve spent the entire day wondering what I’m doing and why. Yesterday is a blur in my mind... and I don’t even recognize my surroundings. You’re the only thing—.” A stab of pain in his head caused Egon to wince and the room to momentarily spin.

“Easy there,” Peter murmured as he affectionately stroked Egon’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever it is that has afflicted you - whether it be cognitive impairment from some form of trauma or a degenerative illness - I’m here for you.”

Egon squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to will himself to stop crying. Peter’s tweed jacket was rough and itchy, and it smelled like mothballs, but the odor was not strong enough to block the smell of Peter himself. There were many conflicting scents coming off of Peter, the least of which was the hairspray his wavy locks were held up by. But underneath it all was Peter’s distinct scent of masculinity - a scent that was oddly familiar to Egon.

At that moment, a steady rapping on the door caused Peter to spring apart from Egon.

“ _Domino’s Pizza!_ ”

“Hang on a sec.” Peter brushed the backs of his knuckles gently over Egon’s cheek before getting up to answer the door to the pizza delivery boy.

What was it about Peter that put Egon at ease? Sure, the man was strong, confident and charming, but so were a lot of other men in Manhattan. Egon should have felt awkward and uncomfortable when Peter embraced him, but instead he found himself reminded of a home that he could no longer remember.

“Are you hungry?”

When Egon looked up again, Peter was standing there with a large pizza and a side order of Buffalo wings. Was he hungry? He was absolutely famished! It just occurred to him that he had neglected to eat lunch back at the supermarket. The smell of that pizza was mouthwateringly delicious. “I don’t want to intrude on your dinner time,” Egon politely declined, feeling like an idiot for doing so.

“Actually, I insist that you stay and join me.” Peter placed the two boxes down on his desk and approached a door situated at the far right of the room. “You okay with olives and mushrooms?”

“I love mushrooms!”The future was starting to look a lot more positive for Egon.

“Great! Do you want a Guinness or a Corona?”

“A what?” Egon watched Peter disappear inside a hidden room, reemerging almost immediately with two bottles of beer. “Oh. I don’t drink.”

“Allergy or personal choice?” Peter asked as he glanced from one bottle to the other.

“Personal choice.”

Deciding to go with the Corona, Peter added it and two paper plates to the desktop clutter. “It’ll save your waistline in the future,” Peter quipped. He disappeared back inside that hidden room to grab a bottled water for Egon. What was Peter hiding back there? Maybe the room that he kept the mini fridge in was a total mess. Peter didn’t strike Egon as the organized type. Returning to the desk, Peter lifted the lid off of the pizza box, helped himself to a large slice, and crammed a few Buffalo wings alongside it. “Help yourself.”

Egon chose a slice that was covered in mushrooms. It tasted even better than it looked. Perhaps it had something to do with the present company because this wasn’t the first time that Egon had enjoyed a pizza from Domino’s. Just when he thought that it couldn’t get any better, Peter began to playfully shift the mushrooms from the remainder of the pizza onto the two slices on Egon’s side.

“Thank you, Peter.” It was now nearly impossible for Egon to deny that he was attracted to Peter Venkman. Peter was kind and considerate. And the way he treated Egon was full of genuine concern and respect. How had they established such a natural rapport over the duration of an hour and a half? It was almost as if Egon had known Peter forever.

“There you are!”

Egon and Peter both turned to see a flustered looking ginger haired man standing in the doorway and glaring at Egon as if he were an escaped convict.

“I may have forgotten to lock the door but I’m pretty sure that the _Do not disturb_ sign is still hanging there,” Peter said in total disgust. He was too annoyed with the intrusion into his personal domain to catch onto the man’s fixation with Egon.

“Your mother is worried sick!” The man - Doctor Sydney Lenenbaum - barged into Peter’s office and approached Egon in a threatening manner.

Dropping his half eaten Buffalo wing back onto his plate, Peter came around the front of the desk and physically stopped Lenenbaum with a greasy hand on his chest before he could reach Egon. “Back off,” Peter warned in a tone that was completely devoid of any of the warmth that he had showed Egon.

Worried that Peter might get into a fistfight with Lenenbaum, Egon hurriedly addressed the older man before things got ugly. “Doctor Lenenbaum, I appreciate the time that you have spent on my case in the past, but I’ve decided that I no longer require your services after consulting with Doctor Venkman,” he said respectfully but firmly.

“Doctor Venkman?” The well dressed man scoffed. “The only doctorate this jerk has ever received was from an online role playing game.”

“Shut up, Sydney!” Peter growled.

These two men knew each other? Egon figured that there was a chance that they might beacquainted with each other due to them both working in the same building, but he had never anticipated such a familiarity between them.

“Why should I, _Peter_? Before you go and steal my client, maybe you should make him aware of your lack of credentials. You’re nothing but a sham and a waste of flesh. Setting up a fake practice in the same unit that you eat and sleep in. You’ve already been warned by the police twice this month. Up until now there’s been no proof of your wrongdoing, but now that you’ve taken on an actual client, you’re looking at criminal impersonation charges!”

Peter wasn’t a real psychologist? Did normal people honestly go around pretending to be something that they weren’t? Then where had all the certificates on the wall come from? Had Peter made them himself? “Are his accusations true?” Egon asked Peter in shock.

“I may not have a fancy diploma and PhD to measure my dick by, but I don’t mess around when it comes to helping people with their problems,” Peter said angrily. “And if you’re a patient of this prick here, then you really need help because his methods are sadistic and inhumane. If you don’t believe me, come back in the early morning hours when his patients are screaming and crying.”

“That screaming and crying is probably coming from inside your head,” Lenenbaum shot back. Then he turned to Egon. “Any further delay to your counseling session will disappoint your mother greatly.” He whacked Peter’s hand off of him and took a step back. “Not to mention the harm that you are causing yourself by not taking your medication as recommended.”

“ _What_ medication?” Peter demanded to know.

“All patient information is confidential.”

“I’m sure that it is,” Peter said sarcastically.

“Egon, my patience is wearing thin,” Lenenbaum seethed.

Egon looked at Peter, still trusting him despite learning that the whole psychologist setup was nothing but an elaborate act.

“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, Egon.” Peter kept himself protectively positioned in front of Egon, looking like he was well prepared to give Lenenbaum a black eye if it came to that. “Just say the word and I’ll send this pompous bastard on his way.”

“I would rather stay with you, Peter. As a friend,” he hastily added so that Lenenbaum wouldn’t have any ammo to use against Peter.

“Your mother is going to be sorely displeased with you,” Lenenbaum said angrily as he backed out of the office. “You’ll be beyond saving if you hang around this loser.”

“Go fuck yourself!” Peter bid Lenenbaum a good night by slamming the door in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

After Lenenbaum had been ejected from the unit and the front door locked and bolted, Peter led Egon into the private area of his apartment - the main area that was only accessible through that narrow door on the right side at the back. It was small and cramped inside but cozy.

Peter made Egon a hot cup of tea while the blonde perused his record collection. Judging by Egon’s blank expression, he had never heard of most of the pop or rock albums that Peter possessed. What did Egon listen to anyway? Folk music? Who wasn’t a fan of Queen?

“You looking for anything in particular?” Peter asked from behind the kitchen counter that overlooked the tiny living room. The kitchen area was sufficiently lit from the single overhead light, but the living room was draped in shadows. Peter had closed the blind over the small window and turned on the vintage lamp that was taking up an unreasonable portion of the coffee table space. Apparently, the bulb needed changing because it was beginning to give off an ugly yellow glow instead of the clean bright one it had started with.

“Do you have any Chopin or Tchaikovsky?”

“Cho-what?” Peter furrowed his brow and tried to guess what language Egon was speaking.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

How had Peter ended up with such a beautiful creature in his home? Egon was tall, slim and blue-eyed - a definite catch in Peter’s books. On top of that, the blonde was well mannered and introspective, which made him all the more interesting. And those nerdy red glasses of his were ultra sexy. Peter adored the way they magnified Egon’s clear blue eyes, making it seem as if he were peering into an endless summer sky. On numerous occasions those glasses had slid down the bridge of Egon’s nose, filling Peter with the overwhelming urge to push them back up again. That desire was almost as strong as the need to sift his hands through that thick blond hair in order to disturb the lofty pompadour that angled down over Egon’s forehead.

The funny thing was that Peter didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was the sort of scam his father sold superstitious people up north. Peter’s father was forever deceiving people and swindling them out of their money, but not Peter. While Peter might not have the education to back up his knowledge and instincts, he truly believed that he was destined to help others. If he managed to collect a pay check here and there while playing Good Samaritan, so be it. But Egon was entirely separate from all of that. Peter would not take a dime from Egon. Nor would he treat the blond with the same detachment that he afforded his other off-the-record _clients_. If there was such a thing as love, then Peter was sure that Egon was worthy of it.

“I’ve got cookies,” Peter said cheerfully as he passed Egon a steaming hot cup of the discounted Earl Grey that he had ordered online. The excited gleam in Egon’s eyes was all Peter needed to see to break out his cookie collection. He kept the crappy stuff inside the cupboard, opening up the gourmet tin that he had been saving for a special occasion. Peter couldn’t help but grin when Egon reached for one of the cookies, changed his mind, started to select another, and then stopped himself while he debated over which one he wanted the most. “You don’t get cookies at home?” He sat beside Egon on the worn out sofa and pulled the assortment of cookies closer to the blond. “Take as many as you want.”

“My _mother_ prohibits junk food in the house.” Egon placed special emphasis on the word ‘mother’, alienating it from the rest of his sentence. “All of our meals are carefully selected based on their nutrition profile and total amount of calories.”

“So you basically eat replicated food for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Peter joked.

“So it would seem...” Egon chose a sugar coated cookie that was twisted into the shape of a pretzel. He ate it slowly, relishing every bite as if he hadn’t had a cookie in ages.

“What do you mean?”

“I simply cannot recall what I consumed for breakfast this morning, nor dinner last night. I am only vaguely aware of what it is that I am supposed to be eating, but have no memory of what I have actually eaten.”

“That’s pretty screwed up if you ask me,” Peter muttered. The more details Egon shared about his personal life - and the problems in it - the less Peter understood. Egon’s symptoms ranged from amnesia to a dissociative disorder, to emotional and psychological abuse. The way that mother of his treated him was downright criminal. Egon was nothing if not completely guileless and desperate to please. What kind of mother would allow a son like that to wander around unsupervised in such a state? And the way she belittled Egon, forcing him to shoulder the blame for her missing husband... Just thinking about it made Peter’s blood boil. On top of that, Peter found Doctor Lenenbaum’s behavior towards Egon to be very suspicious. What exactly was Egon being medicated with and what the hell were the side effects? An even better question would be why was he being kept drugged up? “What _do_ you remember?”

A forlorn look entered Egon’s eyes as he struggled to remember something about his past. “Popcorn at the opera... green leather upholstery with cream colored stripes... a red and white symbol...”

“You don’t mean _the_ opera, do you? Because they don’t let you bring popcorn in there.” Peter almost added that he had tried it before but shook that image out of his mind because he had never been to the opera. At least not while conscious.

“Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

“Have you been to the opera recently?”

“Not since that incident with the Valkyries,” Egon replied automatically.

Peter didn’t waste his time asking what a Valkyrie was. The _what_ wasn’t what was important. It was the _when_ that he was interested in. “And the incident of the Valkyries happened...?” He prompted.

“Well over two years ago.” Again, Egon’s response time was nearly instantaneous. He didn’t even need to think before answering.

 _Bingo_! Whatever trauma Egon had suffered - or was currently being forced to endure - was affecting his short term memory. But something did not add up. If Egon’s short term memory was so screwed up, then how was he managing to hang onto every word that Peter said? His blue eyes had been clear and one-hundred percent cognizant the entire time he was conversing with Peter. Not once had he faltered in his ability to interact in a very focused manner. Sure, he was a little emotional, but who wouldn’t be with a crazy mother like Mrs. Spengler?

“Egon, this medicine that Lenenbaum has you taking... Whose idea was it to prescribe it? That asshole’s or your mom’s?”

“My mother is very adamant about me keeping my appointments with Doctor Lenenbaum _and_ taking my medicine.” Taking a bite out of another cookie - this time a chocolate wafer - Egon shyly dropped his gaze before asking a question of his own. “What about you, Peter? Are you and your parents close?”

That sort of prying question just about guaranteed that they were no longer pretending to have a doctor-client relationship. Peter would have preferred to keep grilling Egon about the fishy setup Mrs. Spengler had in place with Lenenbaum but chose to temporarily drop it so as not to upset the blond. “Nah. My mom OD’ed when I was a kid and my dad is in lockup for grand larceny.”

Egon’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m so sorry, Peter.” Dropping his third cookie back into the tin, Egon shifted closer to put a comforting hand on Peter’s arm.

Although socially awkward, Egon was easily moved by the suffering of others, or at least Peter’s. He was also much more tempting at close range. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a long time to get over my mom’s passing, and I have a whole lifetime ahead of me to get over my dad.” Peter placed his hand over Egon’s and began to suggestively caress the blond’s slender fingers. “Say, Egon, you wouldn’t happen to be engaged, would you?”

“Not that I know of,” Egon murmured nervously.

“That’s a shame.” Peter stroked his thumb over Egon’s left ring finger, wondering what kind of thick band would have left the lower portion of Egon’s finger completely pale. “I’d take you off the market myself... if the option were available.” What the hell was he saying?! This was a man whom he had just met - an emotionally screwed up man with an overbearing adoptive mother. He couldn’t just go around seducing Egon because the blond felt good in his arms and made him feel at peace inside. Could he?

“Peter, what are you doing?” Egon’s voice was no more than a timid whisper. He looked terrified of what was about to happen, but he was making no effort to stop it.

“Ignoring my better judgment,” Peter quipped. Then he was wrapping one arm around Egon’s waist, squeezing him in close, and cupping his other hand behind Egon’s head. He briefly made eye contact with those blue eyes, ensuring that he had permission, before he sealed his mouth over Egon’s full lips. Although noticeably tense and uncertain, Egon instinctively parted his lips for Peter to slip his tongue inside. It was a sweet kiss, straight and to the point. But kissing Egon stirred Peter’s desire instead of satisfying it. The blond was very quiet, only whimpering twice as Peter kissed him passionately. And it wasn’t because Egon was numb to the sensations that Peter was igniting in him. Rather, it was because the blond was afraid of giving into his emotions and really allowing himself to feel.

“Peter...,” Egon gasped when Peter briefly let him up for air. “We’ve only just met... This ethically questionable behavior is—.”

“Hot as hell,” Peter said with a smirk. He placed the palm of his hand over the crotch of Egon’s brown slacks, soothing Egon with another kiss when the blond nearly jumped out of his skin. “Well, well, aren’t we sensitive? Do you wanna hear something insane?” Peter lightly nipped Egon’s bottom lip and then licked straight down that slender throat. Egon squirmed and tried to escape the attention, falling onto his back on the sofa. Peter followed him down and straddled those narrow hips with his strong thighs. “I’m experiencing some major deja vu right now. It’s almost like I’ve touched you like this before.” Peter dragged his tongue over Egon’s throat again, this time eliciting a strangled plea from his captive. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been fantasizing about having you under me since you first appeared on my doorstep.” The next sound that Egon made was definitely a moan. More subdued than most but unmistakably a sound of pleasure.

“We shouldn’t,” Egon weakly protested. But he became awfully submissive when Peter shoved a hand down the back of his pants.

“Oh, I think we definitely should.” Peter was caught between wanting to draw out the moment with a lot of foreplay and needing to bury himself deep within Egon. When it came to sexual intimacy, Peter was an equal opportunist, although he statistically preferred women. While he did have the tendency to lure his attractive partners to the bedroom, this was nuts! It was like he was starving for Egon and nothing could force him to regain control. Forget anyone he had been with before! None of them had been anywhere near as beautiful or alluring as this blue-eyed blond. Mrs. Spengler and that tool Lenenbaum had better watch out because Peter was now looking out for Egon.

Peter returned to kissing Egon as he stroked the soft skin of Egon’s buttocks. It wasn’t easy getting his hand into the right position with the lack of space they had on the sofa but Peter managed. He probed with his index finger until he found the tight entrance to Egon’s body. “It feels like you’re gonna need a bit of coaxing,” Peter said slyly. He withdrew his hand and pushed two of his fingers into Egon’s sensuous mouth. “Suck on them,” he instructed, giving Egon a kiss on the cheek to lessen the crudeness of his request. His eyes narrowed when Egon obediently did as he was told. Yet again, Peter got the uncanny feeling that he had been in this position with Egon before. As impossible as it sounded, there was no other way he could rationalize the blond’s receptive behavior. Someone as sweet and innocent as Egon wouldn’t be comfortable with this level of intimacy - not without trust. And trust was earned, not stumbled upon like an open door leading to an unlicensed psychologist.

As soon as his fingers were wet enough, he returned them to Egon’s quivering opening. Very slowly, he pushed the tip of his index finger inside. Egon gasped and tried to deny Peter access, which made the channel tighten around Peter’s finger. But instead of pulling out, Peter eased his finger in deeper. “This is gonna feel real nice around Petey Junior,” he commented dryly. “You’re gonna be wrapped around me, all nice and hot and snug.”

In response to Peter’s dirty talk, Egon moaned and clenched around the second finger that Peter inserted into him.

“Been a while?” Peter asked when Egon had trouble accommodating the two fingers combined.

“I... don’t... know,” Egon gasped, his skin flushed with pleasure and his eyes heavily lidded.

“What? You don’t know if it’s been a while or you don’t know if you’ve done it before?” There was a huge difference between the two. When Egon failed to respond, Peter reluctantly got off of him. “Wait here. Don’t even _think_ about moving.” Rushing into the bedroom, Peter retrieved the bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. He desperately wanted Egon, but not at the risk of hurting him. He also didn’t want Egon entering his bedroom and discovering what a slob he was.

When Peter returned to the sofa, he was treated to the glorious sight of Egon shamelessly stroking himself inside his slacks. The blond’s eyes were tightly shut and he was leisurely rolling his hips up against his hand.

“Got you all worked up, have I?” Peter grinned at Egon like a hungry wolf as he descended on him once more. This time, he unbuttoned Egon’s pink shirt, helped him out of it, and pulled the undershirt up over Egon’s head. Was this all Egon had been wearing outside on a cold day like today? Someone needed to take better care of this beautiful man. Someone like Peter. Next, Peter unfastened Egon’s pants and carefully pulled them off, one leg at a time. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he removed Egon’s boxers and pushed the blond’s hand aside. Egon was absolutely gorgeous. From his flawless creamy skin, to the thatch of platinum blond hair nestled between his legs, to his slender cock. Peter stroked his hand over that bush of fair hair and settled it on Egon, gently at first. When Egon tensed and began to breathe quicker, Peter wrapped his fingers around him. “You like this?”

“Oh God... _yesss_ ,” Egon moaned.

Peter moved his hand up and down Egon’s length loosely and slowly as he bent down to flick his tongue over a pink nipple. Egon’s breathing quickened and he grabbed Peter by his hair. At first it seemed like Egon wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Peter away or pull him closer. But a few more flicks of his tongue, followed by an open mouthed kiss on that nipple caused Egon to cry out in pleasure. Peter sealed his lips over that pert nipple and hungrily sucked on it, occasionally scraping his teeth lightly over it and making it unbearably sensitive for Egon. Moving to the opposite nipple, Peter gave that one just as much attention, sucking on it until it turned very dark and became pebbly hard. Even after that, Peter continued to lick at it until Egon was left whimpering beneath him and clawing at his hair. He released his grip on Egon when the blond began to thrust into his hand. He couldn’t have Egon reaching orgasm so soon.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Peter chided. “I’m too young for a hair transplant.”

Peter leaned back and began to undress. Once he was completely nude, he sat back on his heels, stroking his achingly hard cock and eyeing Egon with undeniable adoration. Egon’s blond hair was a complete mess with that peculiar pompadour of his now draped halfway over his brow and the little tail end hanging in wispy locks over his left shoulder. His skin was aglow with heat and his eyes unfocused with pleasure behind those nerdish red glasses.

“Peter...?” Egon reached up to caress Peter’s face, his expression becoming one of disbelief and confusion.

“This is gonna sound like a load of bull, but I love you, Egon. I’m gonna take care of you from now on, do you understand?” Thinking that Egon was having second thoughts, Peter covered Egon’s body with his own, embracing him tightly, and kissed him for all he was worth. Egon’s lips were soft and his tongue delightfully responsive to Peter’s own, and his body was slim and somewhat delicate compared to Peter’s more muscular frame. But holding Egon like that and kissing him so passionately caused the backs of Peter’s eyes to burn.

Images began to flash through Peter’s mind - vibrant and full of emotion, like a well preserved photo album. There was a garden with wild flowers lining a path that led to some sort of man-made archway. On either side of that path were rows of chairs and well dressed people sitting in them. A tall blond was walking down the aisle, towards Peter, with a robust middle-aged woman at his side. The woman clinging excitedly to his arm had similar features, blue eyes and fair hair. Her son - Egon - was dressed in a white tuxedo with a red bow tie that matched his small round glasses, and he was smiling. The smile was so genuine and full of love that the memory of it alone was enough to floor Peter.

The present and past began to blur as Peter nudged Egon’s thighs apart, kneeling between the blond’s spread legs, and began to prepare him with the lube. But each time his finger sank inside Egon, he saw more images.

A cottage on some hillside briefly drifted past Peter’s peripheral vision, followed by the sight of Egon lying on white sweat soaked sheets. The blond was panting and looked absolutely exhausted but thoroughly sated. And on his left ring finger was a diamond studded engagement ring pressed up against a simple platinum wedding band. Peter had grown impatient saving up for the engagement ring, so he had sold off his entire record collection and most of his autographed baseball cards in order to make up the difference. The wedding band had come after a sudden influx of business, which had made it easier to afford.

“ _Egon_!” Peter crushed Egon in his arms as he carefully, but eagerly, sought entry to his lover’s body after liberally coating himself with that lube. Egon momentarily tensed and gasped at the sensation of being stretched and filled by Peter. It was almost like their first time again, when Egon had reacted unsure about being able to accommodate Peter’s impressive size. “Relax,” Peter whispered into Egon’s ear, kissing him tenderly as he held his hips steady.

Another memory settled into the front of his mind. This one had Peter pulling up to a McDonald’s drive-thru window in a really long car that was outfitted with tons of bizarre looking tech. Beside him, in the front passenger’s seat, Egon was pulling out his wallet to contribute to the burger purchase. But, in the process of withdrawing a five-dollar bill, he accidentally dropped a photograph onto the floor of the car - on Peter’s side. Thinking nothing of it, Peter hunched over to pick it up for Egon. That’s when he realized what the photograph was of and why Egon looked absolutely mortified. The photograph was from a publicity photo shoot that the Ghostbusters had done for an issue of _Spooks and Spectrals_. What was really interesting was the fact that Egon had trimmed their other two teammates - Ray and Winston - out of the photograph so all that remained was Peter with his arm wrapped around an understandably nervous Egon. Feeling like he had just won the lottery, Peter quietly passed the photograph back to Egon. He was still deep in thought when Egon thrust the five-dollar bill in his direction. But Peter gently closed his hand around Egon’s, refusing the money. “ _This one’s on me,”_ he said as he smiled at Egon.

“Peter, how long has it been?” Egon suddenly asked in anguish.

So Egon was remembering as well! “Too long, sweetheart. Three months, give or take a week.”

“ _Three months_?!”

Peter kissed Egon’s tears away even though his own eyes were watery with grief. “I should have protected you. I vowed to never let you go. What kind of husband could just—?!”

“You fought her as best you could... from what I remember.” Egon moaned when Peter began to push deeper inside him. “Peter, my mind...”

“I’ll fix it,” Peter promised. “Whatever’s been done to you, I’ll undo it. Even if I have to snap that bitch’s neck in the process.”

Peter held himself above Egon as he claimed the blond in one long heated stroke. Egon cried out and dug his fingernails into Peter’s shoulder blades, clinging to him in desperation. Peter nudged Egon’s thighs open wider so that he could thrust deeper inside him, locating that spot that made Egon cry out and beg for more. As more memories came flooding back to Peter, so did his knowledge of Egon’s body. He knew exactly where to touch and kiss Egon in order to pleasure him. He also knew how to tenderly but insistently thrust into Egon, repeatedly grinding into that sweet spot until the blond was trembling with need. Peter gradually intensified the sensations with more eager and thorough thrusts, until Egon clenched tightly around Peter and came with a wordless cry.

“Yes, that’s it,” Peter groaned as he cherished the feeling of being sheathed deep inside Egon. The tremors passing through Egon squeezed Peter tighter and tighter, bringing him to a blissful and incredible release. He pressed down onto and into Egon, kissing those full lips while allowing his white hot passion to fill the blond. “I love you, Egon. I’m never gonna let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you, too, Peter.” Egon sank back into the sofa cushions, panting and trembling all over. “Even when I couldn’t remember who you were... I was drawn to your voice....”

Peter kissed Egon again and reluctantly slipped from him. “You look like you could use some rest,” he said in concern. Now that he remembered who Egon was, he also had a baseline to compare the blond’s current state with. Although Egon had always walked a fine line between slender and skinny, now he was just plain underweight. His ribs were showing and his hips were bonier than ever. In addition to being kept docile with questionable drugs, he was also undernourished and tired looking. “Come to bed.” He held out his hand and helped Egon to his feet. “You know me so expect the worst,” he warned. But Egon didn’t make any comment on the horrible mess Peter had turned the bedroom into. He merely crawled into the bed, curled up against Peter, and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The air was filled with steam thick enough to fog up the mirror and leave condensation forming on the basin, windowsill, and the base of the toilet. Some of the very warm - bordering on hot - water had even sloshed over the side of the tub to soak the bath mat along with the bathroom floor. But Peter didn’t care. He was too entranced with the feeling of embracing Egon’s slippery body to worry about how much damage he was causing to his surroundings. What did it matter anyway? He wasn’t expecting to remain in this apartment for much longer. As soon as Egon figured out a way to send them _back_ , he would be leaving his crappy abode and fake profession behind.

“I’m surprised you lasted two days,” Egon murmured as he pressed a kiss to Peter’s collarbone.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Peter stroked Egon’s longish wet hair, wrapping the tail end of it around his index finger. “Your hair’s longer,” he murmured in wonder. Before they were separated, Egon had been overdo for a bit of a trimming. Now the wavy blond tail was long enough to settle between Egon’s shoulder blades.

“Because you aren’t the most organized person in the world,” Egon teased, his breath hot against Peter’s neck and the palm of his hand pressed firmly against Peter’s chest, over his heart. “I just can’t picture you as a waste management professional.”

“ _Garbage man_ , Egon. There’s no need to use polite euphemisms.” Peter had just told Egon the occupation he had been thrown into upon entering this alternate universe. From what he could remember, he had awoken from a dazed state to find himself reaching for a pile of garbage bags lying on the curb while the driver of some garbage truck hollered at him to ‘ _get a move on_!’ He had put up with the backbreaking work for two entire seven-hour shifts before telling his supervisor to take the job and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Perhaps the Peter from this universe had no greater aspirations in life, but the Peter from the world of Ghostbusting and promotional photo shoots did _not_ do manual labor.

“So you’ve had this illegal practice in place ever since?”

Peter tired of playing with Egon’s hair, instead choosing to smother his beloved husband with hugs and kisses. They slid backwards in the bathtub when Egon struggled to escape the fingers that drifted over his ribs. Peter ended up with some of that blond hair in his mouth as well as a knee to the crotch. “ _Oof_! Dammit, Egon, you’ve gone and injured my most valuable asset!”

“You have only yourself to blame. You are well aware of the adverse reaction touching me in that area causes,” Egon accused without remorse.

“Adverse reaction my ass,” Peter laughed. “You’re just as ticklish in this world as you are in our world.” He hugged Egon tightly and went back to skimming his fingers over the blond’s ribs.

“ _Peter_!” Egon sent more water splashing over the side of the tub as he fought to escape Peter’s adventurous fingers. But the frantic tugging and elbowing stopped when the touch descended lower and away from his sensitive ribs and sides. “What are you doing?”

“Estimating how much weight you’ve lost,” Peter replied in all seriousness. “That bitch wasn’t joking when she promised you a slow death. If you’d continued to deteriorate like this for another few months, you might’ve become really sick, Egon. And I’m not talking about coming down with a cold. I mean decreased immune system function, malnutrition - if you’re not already suffering from it - and anemia.”

“I may be tired, Peter, but I’m not suffering from... whatever it is that you just said,” Egon stated with an uncharacteristic pause in which he had trouble catching his breath. The falter would have been unnoticeable to most people because Egon was always so quick at recovering his train of thought, even when he was feeling unwell, but he couldn’t hide anything from Peter.

“Egon, what are the symptoms of anemia?” Peter asked without humor.

“Loss of...,” Egon responded automatically, only to stop and make a small frustrated noise that Peter had never heard him make before. “I thought we were going to discuss the PKE meter.” Instead of properly answering the question, Egon completely changed the subject, which was something else that he had never done before. “In order to locate her, we will need a properly functioning PKE meter. And then we will need to build a proton pack.”

Placing both hands over Egon’s, Peter grasped them firmly and tried to swallow the fear that was lodged in his throat. “Sweetheart, what you need to do is rest. I’ll make you something for breakfast and we’ll spend the day in bed together. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re stalling,” Egon replied in a neutral tone. “If you have something to say, Peter...”

There were plenty of things that Peter wanted to say but none of them were appropriate given the timing. Under different circumstances, Peter would have told Egon straight out about the memory lapses, obvious signs of confusion and questionable gaps in the conversation. But if Egon were still healthy and properly cared for, he wouldn’t have needed to be told. Regardless of the severity of the affliction, Egon was usually fully capable of diagnosing and treating himself. Now, judging from Egon’s peculiar behavior, that was no longer the case. Pointing out the problem would just upset and frustrate the blond further and that was something that Peter wanted to avoid doing.

“I’m just really grateful that you wound up on my doorstep,” Peter said with a sigh of relief. “It might have taken three whole damn months for us to get lucky—.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Egon interrupted. “We are anomalies in this universe, Peter. We are like similarly charged particles that share a unique chemical attraction. It was only a matter of time before we were drawn together due to the fact that everything else in this environment is out of sync with us. We do not belong here and the longer we stay, the more we will throw off the balance of both universes.”

Taking advantage of one of Egon’s more coherent moments, Peter tried to get in as many questions as possible before his husband’s focus weakened again. “If this universe is just like our own - but different - then where are our counterparts? Where’s the Peter Venkman who flunked out of high school and got arrested for fencing car parts for his small-time criminal dad? And where’s the poor Egon Spengler who got adopted by _Psycho Mom_?”

“I suspect that they’re both occupying a space in _our_ universe. Energy and matter cannot be arbitrarily added and subtracted from a universe without it resulting in catastrophic effects. In order to maintain the balance, they would’ve had to be simultaneously transported to our universe to fill our vacant spots.”

“Uh huh... I see.” Peter really didn’t see why it would matter so much who went where in the universe. It wasn’t like there was some giant omnipotent being balancing the universe on a scale. So what if one tiny insignificant human got displaced into a neighboring universe? What’s the worst that could happen? A thunderstorm in Africa? “Okay, so how do you know that we’re really _us_ and not _them_?”

Egon twisted around to give Peter a bewildered look over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve got some jumbled memories in my head from the other Peter’s history. Is that really _his_ history or is it mine?

“Peter, sometimes I wish you would learn to phrase your questions a little more clearly.” Taking a moment to think, Egon was slow to answer that particular question. “If your memories are like mine, then you probably have fragments of your counterpart’s past mixed in with your own. They were undoubtedly implanted in our minds to provide a background for our existence here, but they will not hold up to intense scrutiny. There will also be conflicting instances where you might discover two memories from the same time frame...” Egon suddenly gasped and grabbed for Peter’s arm.

Peter held Egon more securely, pressing the blond’s head against his shoulder to keep him steady. “Dizzy spell? Just close your eyes and rest. It’ll pass.” He kept the worry and fear out of his voice. Regardless of whether or not they returned to where they belonged, Peter needed to nurse Egon back to health. He hoped the damage that had already been done was reversible. It hurt to see Egon struggling to regain control over his own mind and body. What the hell had been done to him during those three long months he’d spent separated from Peter?

“The Egon from this universe was not adopted,” Egon stated after a few minutes of silence.

“But you said—.”

“I said that the woman I was living with is not _my_ mother. However, there is no irrefutable proof that she is not the mother of that other Egon. We share the same father, and I came across nothing to indicate that Everard Spengler was previously married to another woman.”

“Let me guess, at some point in the past, one of your ancestors on your mom’s side decided to have a relationship with someone that they didn’t have a relationship with in our universe, which resulted in your mom not being your mom.”

“You’re giving me a headache,” Egon complained. “But - essentially - that is correct.”

“Can we talk about Medusa?” Peter asked as cautiously as he was able.

“Her name is not Medusa. Medusa was a priestess who was cursed by the goddess Athena for falling in love with Poseidon. _Medolesa_ is the product of a succubus mixed with a harpy. She possesses the ability to seduce and drain men, not turn them into stone.”

“Whatever,” Peter muttered as he went back to playing with Egon’s hair. The water was already lukewarm and only hip deep thanks to all the movement launching half the contents of the bathtub overboard. They would soon need to towel off and get back into the bedroom to avoid freezing their unmentionables off. “After you freed her fan club of male prostitutes from her mind control, she threatened you and lashed out at Ray, Winston and myself pretty badly. That’s the last thing I remember before ending up here. Do you remember what she did to you on the way over?”

“Those weren’t male prostitutes, Peter. They were actors from that new broadway musical...”

“I’m not into musicals or anything artsy like that. So sue me.” Peter had just seen the form-fitting leggings matched with frilly open shirts and assumed. “And don’t change the subject. What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” Egon admitted.

“Nothing,” Peter repeated in disappointment. “I think that we’d better contact Winston and see if we can’t knock some sense into him. Then we’ll start looking for Ray. We’re getting out of here ASAP but we’re not leaving anyone behind.”

“It is quite possible that Ray is not in New York. Perhaps he isn’t even in this country,” Egon pointed out. “Ray is descended from a long line of farmers in Ireland. If the one responsible for moving the Stantzes to the United States decided not to do so in this universe, then...”

“Then we’re screwed,” Peter groaned. “Okay, bath time is officially over. I’m experiencing shrinkage and you know what that does to my male pride.” Peter felt warm inside when he heard Egon laughing softly in his arms. “That’s funny, is it? You’re the one who’s gonna be the worst affected by Petey Junior’s decrease in size.”

“I’m sure that Petey Junior will recover just fine,” Egon teased.

“Oh, I know he will.” Peter helped Egon out of the bathtub and then pulled the blond close for a kiss. As he slid his tongue between Egon’s lips, his hand stroked over the blond’s buttocks. “Wanna go again?” He asked expectantly.

Before Egon could answer, there was a heavy knocking at the door - the inner door. Whoever was out there did not understand what the word ‘trespassing’ meant to have barged into the office area without permission.

“Shit,” Peter cursed. “Get dressed in case it’s the cops.” He lightly patted Egon on the backside, shooing him in the direction of the bedroom.

“Do the police have sufficient evidence to arrest you?” Egon fearfully asked.

“Nah. They just come by occasionally to make sure I’m not following in my dad’s sinister footsteps. If that jerk Sydney called them about you, the only thing you need to tell them is that this is a personal relationship. So long as I’m not treating you, there’s nothing they can do.” Peter practically chased Egon into the bedroom where they rushed to get their clothes on. “You’re not properly dressed for the season,” Peter said when he saw Egon reaching for his wrinkled pink shirt. “Here, put this on.” He tossed Egon a thick green hoodie from the closet and chose an orange sweatshirt with black sleeves for himself.

The banging continued until Peter went out into the living room, unlocked the door and wrenched it open. He was fully prepared to talk himself out of a hefty fine and some jail time, but he was not in the proper state of mind to deal with _her_.

“Where is my son?” The tall dark-haired woman asked haughtily. “You do know that kidnapping is illegal, do you not?”

“Your son?” Peter repeated dumbly.

“Mother!”

Peter turned around to stare at Egon who came rushing out to greet the incensed woman. There was not a spark of comprehension in those intelligent blue eyes. The only emotions Peter could make out were nervousness and submission.

“What are you doing here?” Egon frantically asked the woman.

“What am I doing here?” The woman Egon had referred to as his mother strutted into Peter’s apartment and began to visually pick apart his living space with her dark eyes. “What’s a mother to do when her son doesn’t come home at night?” She gave Egon a condescending look and Peter a hateful one.

Keeping his best poker face on and smothering the red hot fury within him, Peter met Mrs. Spengler’s - _Medolesa’s_ \- gaze head on. Without flinching, he drew Egon into his arms and addressed the succubus/harpy that had brainwashed and kept his husband docile for a quarter of a year. “No offence, lady, but your son is old enough to decide where he sleeps at night.” Her son?! What a joke! That vindictive creature had forced Egon into the role of her offspring so that she could keep him subdued, both mentally and physically. She had no use for him other than getting some perverse satisfaction out of seeing him lose his mind and wither away to nothing.

“My son is unwell,” Medolesa stated with mock concern. Her obsidian eyes studied Peter, searching for any signs of recognition on his part. But Peter gave her nothing. “He neglected to take his medication last night and then again this morning. If he doesn’t take his medication regularly, he will start to hallucinate and maybe even become violent.”

Violent? Egon? Those two words did not even belong in the same sentence. “Is that so?” Peter asked with a forced calmness that he did not feel.

“It is,” Medolesa answered with a sliver of hostility, now beginning to sense that Peter might challenge her. “And since he has missed two doses already, it would be best if he received the next one intravenously.” Leaning back towards the doorway, she glanced at whoever was hiding on the other side. “You can come in now.” When she moved aside, a stocky man wearing a white lab coat entered. “All this fuss interrupted our date last night, but as luck would have it, my new boyfriend is an anesthesiologist so he can inject Egon before we leave for lunch together.”

“ _Do not react,_ ” Peter warned Egon in a barely audible whisper. “ _Avoid eye contact and say as little as possible._ ” That was easier said than done. Even Peter was having one hell of a time keeping his expression neutral at the sight of Ray standing beside that she-witch.

“Which one is your son?” Ray asked in an overeager tone as he withdrew a syringe from his coat pocket.

“Can’t you tell?” Medolesa asked in annoyance. “The unstable blond - obviously.”

“Come along then, Egon.” Ray took a confident step towards them and grabbed Egon by the arm. “It’ll be best if you’re lying down when I administer the injection.”

“But I feel fine,” Egon protested, instinctively looking to Peter for protection.

Without any weapons there wasn’t much Peter could do. If he fought Medolesa or - heaven forbid - Ray to keep that syringe out of Egon’s arm, then he would be revealing his freshly reformed state of awareness. There was no telling how far gone Ray was, especially if he was sleeping with the enemy, so Peter couldn’t predict how far his former friend would be willing to go to protect her. And if those harpy wings came out, Peter would be instantly overpowered. The only thing he could do was let Egon be medicated and hope that the effects wore off again within a day or two. That was all the time he would need to whisk Egon away to another state and far from Medolesa’s reach.

“Peter?”

Peter felt horrible for just standing there as Egon was half dragged to the bedroom by Ray. “It’ll be okay, Egon. Just do as you’re told.”

“You’re not as stupid as Doctor Lenenbaum says you are,” Medolesa said with a smug grin. “I’m glad to see that you want what’s best for my son.”

“He’s kind of grown on me,” Peter said with a nonchalant shrug. It took all his self control to not flinch when he heard Egon pleading with Ray to put down the syringe. What followed was a long stretch of silence, after which Ray exited the bedroom with the empty syringe in his hand. Peter fought against the overwhelming urge to punch his longtime friend in the face. This was not Ray’s doing. Ray had no control over his actions. He was just a puppet that Medolesa had taken a liking to.

“Just let him lie down for a while. The injection hit him hard,” Ray informed Peter in a cold, heartless tone. He then wrapped an arm around Medolesa’s shoulders and led her to the door. “Make sure he’s home in time for his next dose so that his poor mother doesn’t have to resort to this unpleasantness again.”

Peter numbly watched Ray leave with Medolesa. The urge to hit something was unbearable by the time he heard their footsteps on the stair landing. Then, slamming the door shut and locking it, Peter rushed into the bedroom.

“Egon! Sweetheart, are you alright?” He felt sick to his stomach imagining Egon being forcefully injected by Ray. And Peter had just stood by and let it happen. “Egon?” He skid to a stop at the foot of the bed where Egon was hunched over a small pile of mechanical parts. “What the—?” Egon looked fine. No, more than fine. Egon looked clear-headed and obsessed with what he was doing. His long slender fingers were moving with speed and precision, aligning pieces of the machinery together, unscrewing caps, reconnecting wires... “Egon?” Peter sat beside the blond and hugged him close in relief. “Ray said you were experiencing side effects from the injection.”

“Ray lied,” Egon said with relief. “There was insufficient time for us to exchange all the necessary information, but Ray wants us to know that he has had enough of his mundane existence here and would like to return to the world of ghostbusting as soon as it’s convenient. He also requested that you not judge him for resorting to such underhanded tactics in order to gain a strategic advantage.”

“Uh... what?” Peter rolled up Egon’s left sleeve to check his arm.

“He did not inject me, Peter.” Egon placed his hand over Peter’s. “He emptied the contents of the syringe into your waste paper basket.”

“Thank goodness!” Peter felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. He had been so worried about Egon deteriorating further after receiving another of Medolesa’s pharmaceutical cocktails. “And all this?”

“Ray snuck in as many parts as he was able, but I’ll need to dismantle your television set and microwave for the missing components in order to build this weapon.”

“Go ahead! Knock yourself out.” Peter flopped back onto the bed and groaned. “I can’t wait to return to our own universe where I at least know what the hell is going on most of the time.” After a moment, he sat back up again and regarded Egon carefully. “You _do_ know thatyour mother is Medolesa, right?”

“What?” Egon raised an eyebrow at Peter, gave him a confused look, and then went back to what he was doing.

No wonder Ray had taken Egon into the bedroom! Egon still could not see that his mother and Medolesa were the same person and Ray knew that. That would mean that Ray had some insight into Egon’s condition, otherwise he wouldn’t have manipulated the encounter like he had. But having Ray back on their side would not be enough with Egon’s allegiance in question. They needed everyone on board to take Medolesa down - everyone including Winston.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any form of feedback is greatly appreciated and loved!!! (☆▽☆)


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